


The Meaning of Fong

by orphan_account



Category: A Knight's Tale (2001)
Genre: Humor, M/M, Medieval, Porn Battle, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-02
Updated: 2009-02-02
Packaged: 2017-10-07 21:33:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/69448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wat has long promised Geoff a fonging.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Meaning of Fong

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Very little plot.

'You...! Pain...! Fong!' Wat's face was tight with fury.

'Oh, is it time for my fonging, finally?' Geoff's gave him a dry, amused smile. There was something endearing in the way Wat tripped over his own anger.

They were standing in the hayloft where they'd been sleeping for the past two days. Geoff had too restless a pair of feet to stay in London after Sir William's ennoblement, even for Philippa, and there wasn't much more that Will could have done to persuade him. Wat, on the other hand, had had an unfortunate incident in a pub involving two barmaids, a dog and a nobleman, which left him with little else in the world but a story for Geoff to record and a burning desire to be an ex-Londoner again for a few months.

'My personal tale of humiliation is not meant for a pub story, even if it gets us free beers!'

'And yet it went down so well. Well, I guess one man can't change the inevitable. Stars, yes, but Master Wat pent on a fonging? I submit to my fate with humility due to a man who has long escaped it.' He began to take off his shirt.

Wat stood staring at him, trying to untangle his tongue and recapture the choking anger he'd felt a moment ago. Geoff was smiling insolently at him, lips slightly parted, pale eyes watching him. Wat pulled back his fist, but then Geoff took off his trousers and lay down on the oil cloth they'd spread over the hay.

'Wh-huh...'

'You do know what fonging is, don't you?' Geoff purred, toes twisting into the hay like a kneading cat's paw, and slid one hand down his own inner thigh.

Wat stared, swallowed, backed away, his eyes a little wild. 'That's a mortal sin, mate,' he managed.

'A little sodomy never hurt anybody.'

'What about the Sodomites?!'

'I promise you won't be scorched by heavenly fire,' Geoff said drily, ' in any non-poetical sense, anyway.'

'How do you know?'

Geoff shrugged. 'Didn't happen last time, either.'

Wat pointed a shaking finger at Chaucer. 'You're a devil and a-- a-- fornicator!'

'And you,' said Geoff, getting up on his knees and laying a hand on Wat's bulging trousers, 'are hard for me.'

Wat stared at him, flushed, frozen for a moment. Then he toppled into the hay on top of Geoff, clashing their teeth together until Geoff took Wat's head between his hands and held it still to show him a few more amazing things he could do with his tongue.

They rolled. Wat rubbed and squirmed against Geoff, grabbed his buttocks and ground their hips together. Geoff's mouth left him as he gasped, his lips still wet, and Wat could nearly have managed some poetry about the tantalizing effect of light on moisture on kiss-bruised skin, but Geoff decisively pushed him down on his back and went to work on his trouser straps.

'Please,' said Wat, miserable and needing it, 'I don't want to take it up the bum.'

'I don't think that will be necessary, ' gasped Geoff, and mentally added, “yet”. He took Wat's swollen prick in his hand, eliciting another squirm. Geoff thought of metaphors of prize bulls and rolling heaths, but they'd just confuse Wat, so instead he just stroked Wat's prick, took it in his mouth, rolled his tongue around it, swallowed it, pushed down Wat's desperately bucking hips.

Almost as soon, though he let it slip out of his mouth, to an angry groan from Wat. Geoff poised himself instead over Wat, knees on each side of him. Wat's face was twisted in consternation and lust, his cheeks flushed, his lips puffy with kisses, quite irresistable. 'Come on then,' Geoff gasped, his prick hot with need. 'Fong me.'

Wat grabbed his skinny hips, but Geoff had to do the hard work of guiding him in. He'd barely lifted and pushed down thrice before Wat had rolled him on his back on the oil cloth and was fucking him hard enough to pin his back on the floor. Geoff gritted his teeth against the pain, and, expecting no help from a first-timer, took his pleasure in his own hand. The pain melted into bliss, Wat panting and eager over him, and thick and long and everything wonderful inside, and though Geoff was pinned he rode with Wat right to the delicious messy end. He spilled his seed between them even as Wat's spread warm inside him.

Wat collapsed on top of Geoff, mouth open and hot against his neck. They lay tangled until Wat got heavy and Geoff rolled him on his back, laying his own gangly form over him.

'I thought it just meant fucking someone up,' said Wat in a forlorn, exhausted voice.

Geoff barked a laugh. 'Actually, it involves a metal rack, some string, and holding your fingers in your ears.'

'So it is torture then?'

'Torture would be one more day travelling with you,' he said, and nibbled Wat's neck, 'without fucking you.' He moved his hand down, and then up Wat's shirt, his fingers circling a nipple.

Wat frowned, unhappy. 'Does your wife know?'

'I share everything with Philippa.'

'She was quite handsome,' said Wat hopefully.

'Well, maybe not _you_.'

'Fuck you!'

'Excellent.' Geoff grinned into Wat's neck. 'Always use correct English.'


End file.
